


You Never Know

by Meatball42



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, Cute, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Hopefully you'll think it's cute, Inspired by Art, Kid Avengers, The fluffiest I could possibly write indentured servitude of children, it might be horrible, ymmv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is starting to think no one will ever want to adopt them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Never Know

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [assassins free to good home](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/151159) by thegirlinthebyakko. 



> So much for a drabble. This fic was inspired by [thegirlinthebyakko](http://thegirlinthebyakko.tumblr.com)’s series of intensely adorable series of drawings on tumblr [which are](http://thegirlinthebyakko.tumblr.com/post/121360465618/assassins-free-to-good-home-part-1) [linked](http://thegirlinthebyakko.tumblr.com/post/121360679273/assassins-free-to-good-home-part-1-part-2) [in order](http://thegirlinthebyakko.tumblr.com/post/121375512678/assassins-free-to-good-home-part1-part-2-part) [here](http://thegirlinthebyakko.tumblr.com/post/121375889098/assassins-free-to-good-home-part1-part-2), and also [this one](http://thegirlinthebyakko.tumblr.com/post/122638841213/lewstonewar-commented-about-a-science-sandbox).

Eventually, most Trainees ended up at the Box.

“It’s nothing to feel bad about,” Clint whispered to Natasha after the lights went out. “We’re Trainee Specialists, and Trainee Specialists nearly always end up here.”

Clint was right. Not a lot of people, in the whole population, needed Specialists, even the best of them. So really it wasn’t a surprise that they’d get sent to the Box, to be properly assigned.

But in the huge room that was the Box, in the anonymous beds where many Trainees had slept before, it was hard to take his words to heart. The large room where the Trainees were displayed each day and slept each night was blocked off with colored tape on the floors. Natasha and Clint were in the Specialist section, along with a quiet, grumpy boy called Bucky.

Natasha had seen Bucky at one of her old training facilities. He was a very good assassin, she knew, but not many organizations would take on assassins who didn’t have some other talent. That was why she had diversified. So far, however, it hadn’t seemed to make a difference.

Clint had pushed his bed right up to Natasha’s. He often reached over to take her hand when she was getting morose. “We’ll get picked soon,” he assured her, pudgy hand keeping hers warm. “And I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“That’s not smart,” Natasha told him, glancing around suspiciously. Bucky still looked asleep, but you never knew with him. “If someone wants you, go. You never know when you might get another chance.”

Clint’s lower lip stuck out stubbornly. “You’ll see,” he said firmly.

They fell asleep. In the morning, when the lights came on, and the Selectioners started to set up the stalls, Clint and Natasha stuck together. The Specialists stall was big enough for a half dozen Trainees, but it rarely held more than three. The Selectioner for Highly Trained Trainees had told them on one of the less busy days.

Today was Wednesday, not usually a busy day. There would be a Market in the morning, then time to study and practice their skills, then another Market in the afternoon. Natasha tried to stay hopeful, but it felt like they’d been at the Box forever.

This morning, their adoption price was changed. The sign on their box was erased by the Selectioner and replaced with a single word.

“Whatsit say?” Clint asked, twitching with excitement. He had trouble reading sometimes. Bucky, who sometimes had trouble with English, squinted a bit at the word.

“It says ‘Free,’” Natasha said quietly.

“We’re getting in a few new Trainees on Friday, so we want to get you youngsters placed as soon as possible!” the Selectioner told them.

Clint smiled. Natasha and Bucky knew better.

“What’s the matter?” Clint asked, poking her side. “Don’t you want to get picked?”

“A lower price means anyone can pick you,” Natasha told him. “You don’t want to end up with Hydra, do you?”

Clint shivered, then stood up over-straight. “Better than my training facility,” he grumbled, trying to sound tough.

“You never know,” Natasha said darkly. Although he supposedly wasn’t paying attention, Bucky nodded slightly.

It was another day of potential careers walking by. The Markets were frequented by businessmen and women looking for new talent for their fields. There were Markets in every county, big ones in every major city. Trainee Teachers, Doctors, Artists, Farmers, every employer could find someone suited for their company to adopt. But at the Box, things were a bit different. Trainees were only sent to the Box if they couldn’t be placed at their first Market, or their second, or in a big Market in a city. The Box was the last stop.

Natasha was afraid of what would happen if they weren’t picked at the Box.

Across the aisle at the stand for Trainee Scientists, two boys and an oddly colored Trainee were adopted by a redheaded woman in a very professional-looking suit. One of the Trainees was quiet, the colorful one was curious, and the last started pulling on the woman’s suit before they were even fully adopted.

Clint slumped over the side of their box. It sounded like he was sniffling. Natasha ignored it politely.

She was looking out over the part of the Market they could see when suddenly she was shoved to one side and nearly slipped. Silently, Bucky had pushed his way to the front of their box and was leaning out over the front wall, waving both his arms in the air. On his other side, Clint was squished into the corner of their box.

Approaching their stall, attention grabbed by Bucky’s flailing, was a blond man in a very distinctive outfit. He wore a skin-tight red, white, and blue suit, and on his back appeared to be a round shield.

The Selectioner appeared behind the man. “Looking for a Specialist today?” the Selectioner asked politely.

“I’m not sure,” the man answered. He was looking right at Bucky. Natasha checked: Bucky was staring at the man like he couldn’t take his eyes away.

“That one is trained as an assassin,” the Selectioner said impressively. “One of the top in the world, guaranteed. He’s only here because it’s so hard to find someone qualified to handle such a precious Trainee.”

The man nodded absently, then stepped forward. Bucky reached up his arms and the man picked him up out of their box. “Free?” he inquired, frowning.

“To a good home,” the Selectioner corrected quickly. “If you’ll step over here, I can show you all our requirements.”

The man followed the Selectioner to the stall where they kept paperwork.

“Great,” Clint groaned. “Even murderbot can get adopted. We’re multi-talented! Where’s our Selection-at-first-sight?!”

Taking pity on him, Natasha murmured, “You never know.”

Clint glared at her. “That’s all you ever say. Is there anything you _do_ know?”

The blond man walked toward the Adoption Stalls with Bucky cradled in his arms. He was looking down at Bucky, and Bucky was looking up at him with a tiny smile on his face, the first smile from him that Natasha had ever seen.

“I know that sometimes, miracles happen.”

The morning Market closed. At Training, Clint practiced shooting his bow and arrows. His shots thudded deep into his targets as he worked out his sadness. Natasha stayed nearby him, reading a book in Portuguese.

The afternoon was much like the morning, except that there was no one else in their box. Natasha was starting to feel afraid, deep inside. What if no one wanted them? What if Hydra wanted them? Worst of all, what if someone wanted only one of them? Their odds were getting worse with each person that walked by their stall without even glancing at the rare, dangerous Specialists.

Natasha was staring at the ceiling, singing a Russian lullaby to herself, when Clint pulled her to her feet. “Look!” he whispered.

A balding man in a dark suit was waiting to speak to the Selectioner, who finished signing a document and looked up. “How can I help you?”

“This is my first time at the Box,” the man in the suit said. “Is this the Highly Trained section?”

“Yes it is!” the Selectioner replied with a smile. “What are you looking for?”

“Wait for it,” Clint whispered, eyes wide and shining.

“I work for law enforcement, and I’m looking to hire a capable, multi-talented Trainee.”

“Yes!” Clint whispered, squeezing Natasha’s hand.

“I have just what you’re looking for!” their Selectioner said enthusiastically. “Come right this way.”

The Selectioner led the man in the suit to their stall. “Say hello, Trainees!”

Clint and Natasha waved.

“I have their portfolios right here,” the Selectioner said. “This pair is trained in espionage, assassination, intelligence, you name it. This one,” the Selectioner indicated Natasha, “was trained at the Red Room, one of the premier Specialist facilities, while the other had a very unique training plan. You won’t find better Specialists anywhere, guaranteed!”

The man in the suit looked them over. “I was really only looking for one.”

The Selectioner’s smile dimmed slightly. “They’re something of a matched set. But, we are trying to place them quickly, so I suppose we could…”

Clint grabbed Natasha’s hand tightly. She didn’t let herself look up at the man in the suit, refusing to hope or expect for their dream to come true.

“You know what? My boss will forgive me. I’ll take them both.”

Natasha blinked. Clint started trembling with excitement. As the man in the suit picked them up and carried them to the paperwork stall, she still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She looked up at the man, trying to figure it out.

As they left the Box, the man cradled them close together and close to himself. Clint tangled his feet with hers, and Natasha let herself hope.


End file.
